


Fools for Love

by fms_fangirl



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Other, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5552291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fms_fangirl/pseuds/fms_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is sending Grell anonymous gifts and the results make William reconsider their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fools for Love

**Author's Note:**

> A word about pronouns: Grell identifies as female. I, therefore, use the feminine.

Although he loved the ladies, Ronald was not one for hearts and flowers, but, on this particular day, there was no avoiding it. He strolled through the office, distributing small boxes of chocolates and posies to all of the secretaries and female clerks. It was worth the effort, he thought; it guaranteed his reports would be typed, his expenses submitted and all of his filing done for the next several months. And he truly loved seeing the women around him happy.

Which brought him into the presence of the most terrifying female he had ever encountered in his entire existence.

“Ronnie, darling!” Grell sang out, brandishing a red rose, when he entered her office, “Thank you!”

Grell could be kind and generous, but she was always fierce and unpredictable and it was usually best not to disagree with her, but he was still holding her Valentine’s Day gift.

“Er- that’s not from me,” he said, thrusting a half-eaten bag of caramels at her. “Sorry, I got hungry on the way in.”

“Oh well, it’s the thought that counts,” she smiled, “but look at this lovely rose. Where do you suppose it came from?”

“Secret admirer, maybe?” he suggested, helping himself to another candy. “William, perhaps?”

They exchanged looks and burst out laughing.

She grinned. “Maybe I’ll tell everyone that Sebastian sent it to me. Can you imagine William’s face?” But her expression softened as she fingered the velvety petals and Ronald was glad that someone had spared a thought for her.

XXXXXXXXXX

Grell had pinned the rose to her lapel and made arch comments about a secret admirer all day, taking especial pleasure in the discomfort of the three newest members of the Dispatch – recent graduates who had banded together and made no secret of their dislike for her. Only her fearsome reputation kept them civil outside of William’s hearing.

“Go on, Lewis,” she giggled in the break room, “Admit it. You’ve always had a partiality for redheads.”

The sallow-faced young man flinched when she ran her finger down his lapel and stomped out of the room, muttering in disgust to his companion.

“Or was it you, Bradley?” she called after them. “Are you yearning to learn of the delights of loving an older woman?”

“That’s enough, Grell,” William grunted, fussily wiping spilled sugar from the counter top.

“I’m teasing,” she complained. “And they’re usually horrid to me. Richard is telling everyone that I probably sent it to myself.”

He rolled his eyes. “Next year, I’m going to forbid all celebration of Valentine’s Day in the office. Such a bother over a meaningless day.”

“Didn’t you like your card?” she grinned.

“It was grossly unsuitable,” he snorted.

“I know. I had the most awful time finding it,” she laughed.

“Honestly!”

XXXXXXXXXX

A vicious measles outbreak, followed by an influenza epidemic kept the Dispatch on overtime for the next several days. Grell tucked the dried rose into a box at home and gave it no more thought until the following week, when she discovered a little silver heart-shaped locket on her desk.

“Look at this, Ronald,” she puzzled. “It was here when I arrived this morning.”

“Maybe you do have an admirer. What about Undertaker? I heard he didn’t look too displeased that day in the Library.”

“He’d be more likely to send me an actual heart.”

“True.”

She hugged her secret close. Said nothing of the prettily-wrapped box of sweets she found, told no one of the bottle of scent or lace handkerchief. Casual questioning of the secretaries revealed nothing. No one had been seen entering her office. She was being foolish and starry-eyed, she knew, but she lay awake at night thrilling at the romantic gestures, the sweetly-chosen little tokens of regard and scrutinized her colleagues carefully for any sign.

Richard had held a door open for her yesterday. Was it common courtesy or more? One of the new workers in Death Scythes had been most complimentary about hers. Was his admiration a sign of deeper feelings? Lewis had passed her a cup of coffee in the break room. Perhaps his dislike was feigned. That quiet young man in Accounting – he always laughed at her jokes. The pretty, fair-haired filing clerk who constantly rebuffed Ronald – didn’t.  She blushes when she had commented on her new haircut?

It was the most wonderful agony and she revelled in every minute of it.

XXXXXXXXXX

By early spring, everyone in the office had noticed the change in Grell. She still teased and flirted; she still made inappropriate suggestions too almost every man she encountered; she was still rash and reckless, but she hummed at her desk; took on thankless office tasks without complaint and smiled radiantly at everyone. She seemed gentler, happier, contented.

“Maybe she’s got a new man,” one of the secretaries suggested after she had volunteered to take an enormous stack of paperwork to the file room.

When Bradley snickered another agent spoke. “She didn’t even get angry when her spectacle cord got broken last week. Just laughed and said she had another at home.”

“Perhaps she’s in love,” Lewis said with a laugh that sounded anything but pleasant to Ronald.

“William will be so jealous,” Richard added sarcastically. “Just think.  He won’t have the freak slobbering over him any longer.”

Ronald could feel himself growing hot with anger, but had already learned that defending Grell to them was pointless and only made himself a target of their spite. One at a time, he could handle, but the three of them together made him itch to run them over with his Death Scythe. He fled the break room and knocked on her office door.

She was staring dreamily into space, a folded sheet of paper in her hand. “Oh! Hello dear. Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave? Shift’s almost ended and it’s such a beautiful day.”

“Soon,” he grinned. “I’m meeting that girl who works at Reception for a drink.”

“How lovely,” she said absently. “Have a good time.” She flushed pink. “I’m meeting someone, too.”

So she did have a new fellow. “That’s great. Who?”

She turned a deeper pink and ran her fingertip across the paper. “Actually, I don’t know.”

“Blind date?”

“No,” she smiled. “You remember the rose and locket I was sent? He’s been leaving little gifts ever since. We’re meeting tonight.” She showed him the note.

Ronald glanced at it quickly. It named a popular bar near the office. He didn’t recognize the handwriting. “Gosh Senpai! Do you think it’s a good idea? He might be bald or pick his nose or have bad breath.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” she replied softly. “No one has ever bothered themselves on my account like this before. He can be toothless and weigh thirty stone; he’ll still be wonderful.”

“I hope he is,” he said sincerely as he left her office.

He strolled down the hall, wondering if he might dare sneak out a few minutes early. The others were still lingering in the break room. He really did hope Grell’s meeting would turn out well. Even if no great romance grew from it, she deserved better treatment than most men gave her – including William and those three laughing morons in the other room. He could hear her call out a cheerful good night to all as she tripped out of the office, followed by a loud burst of laughter from the break room and, casting a look at the calendar on one of the desks, turned cold and raced to William’s office.

XXXXXXXXX

William had just capped his pen and put it in its appointed spot in his drawer. With a sigh of relief, he squared his blotter on his desk and moved his pencil sharpener a fraction of an inch to its correct position. All of the previous month’s reports had been filed on time and, for once, he could leave the office on time on the first day of the month with a clear conscience.

His contentment was disrupted when Ronald burst in without knocking.

“Boss! I’m sorry,” he exclaimed breathlessly. “There’s a problem. It’s Grell.”

“What has she done now?” he asked, repressing a groan. It had been too good to last.

“Nothing! It’s those three – Bradley, Lewis and Richard. All hell is going to break loose when she realizes.”

“Realizes what?” he asked impatiently.

“What they’ve done to her.” He quickly told William of the little gifts and the note. “Look at the date! They spent the last month setting her up for this.” He pointed at William’s day planner, still open to April 1. “She’s on her way now. She’ll go mad when she understands they’ve been playing her for a fool.”

He sighed. “You’re right.”

“Should I go after her?”

“No. I’ll handle this myself and deal with those three.”

“Can I watch, when you do? I know Grell’s a bit much, but this is so-” he fumbled for the right word while pacing about the office, “so unkind.”

“It’s not unkind,” William said severely. “It’s deliberately cruel and dangerous. Those fools have no idea what Grell is capable of doing when enraged.”

Ronald rumpled his hair. “She’s been so happy these past few weeks. She said no one had ever troubled themselves about her before.”

And that was undoubtedly her own fault, William thought in annoyance, but, right now, he had to get to her before she became aware of what they had done, before she went off on a murderous rampage. He spoke to Ronald. “I shall find her, hopefully before she does something foolish. Promise me you will say nothing about this.”

“As if I would!” he exclaimed in disgust. “Poor Senpai is going to be devastated. And you know those three will blab it all over the office.”

“They will be dealt with,” he answered sternly.

Against all regulation, he opened a portal in his office and vanished.

XXXXXXXXXX

The manager of the bar did little more than blink in surprise when the formidable Dispatch Supervisor materialized in his kitchen.

“Forgive my unorthodox entry,” he said with a slight inclination of his head, “but one of my agents is out front. It is imperative that I make contact without being seen approaching your establishment.” No doubt the three jokers were waiting across the street or around the corner, waiting to laugh at Grell as she emerged dejected, puzzled and angry.

“Well, Agent Sutcliff is here. Someone made a reservation earlier, requesting a table in the front window.”

They had to be at the café on the other side of the road, watching her. “May I have a table near the rear?” he asked. “And would you be kind enough to ask Agent Sutcliff to join me?”

He followed the other man into the bar. Grell’s unmistakable figure could be seen, seated at a table in the window, peering anxiously out into the street. He felt an unexpected pang of compassion for her as she leapt to her feet and followed the manager to where he sat.

It was almost tragic to see her smile fade and the sparkle die in her eyes when she recognized him. For one wild second, he thought of producing a lie – that her intended date had been suddenly called away, transferred to Brazil, killed on duty. For an even wilder second, he was tempted to claim that he had been the anonymous giver. Anything to forestall the hurt he was about to inflict, anything to see her face light up again.

“William! What are you doing here?”

“Sit down, Grell. I need to speak with you.” Bluntly, he told her.

“Oh!” she said softly. “I should have realized. I paid no attention to the date.” She had turned very pale and her lower lip quivered slightly. “Thank you,” she mumbled, attempting to stand.

He grasped her upper arm. “What are you thinking of? Promise me you will do nothing rash.”

“I’m going to return to my table in the window and order a glass of wine,” she answered. Her voice trembled only a little. “Then another and, most likely, another after that. I’ll give them the show they were expecting and, maybe, they’ll find someone else to torment.” She shook off his hand and stalked back to her table.

From his vantage point, he watched her, sipping one glass of wine after another as she stared out the window, flirting with her waiter; watched her shoulders slump and chin droop and watched her defiant pose slip away. Finally, she dropped some money on the table and walked to the door. Without thinking, he paid for his own drink and followed her.

She was walking slowly, her head bowed and hands jammed in her coat pockets. William caught up to her just as she drew level with three familiar figures sitting at a table on a terrace across the street.

Catching hold of her arm, he spoke. “Grell!” he said loudly enough to be heard over the noise of the evening revellers. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Whirling to face him, she hissed, “William! What are you doing?”

He ignored her. “Please don’t be angry. I was held up at the office.” His voice sounded stiff and false to his own ears, but he tightened his grip on her arm and forced himself not to glance across the road. “Take my arm,” he muttered, letting her go.

Dumbly, she nodded and tucked her hand around his elbow.

“Chin up,” he murmured, covering her hand with his. “I’ll never forgive myself for keeping you waiting like this.” He was nearly shouting.

The corner of her mouth began to twitch. Grell leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “I’d almost given up on you, darling. I shall spend the rest of the night making you pay for keeping a lady waiting like this.”

By now, they had rounded the corner and were out of sight. She dropped his arm and stood with her hands resting on her hips. “And what was the purpose of that little farce?”

“I don’t know,” he said helplessly. “I’m not sure what I was thinking. I just couldn’t bear the idea of letting them think they had succeeded in hurting you like that.”

She raked her hair back and clasped her hands behind her neck. “Honestly!” she said with a faint smile, “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

“I would consider it a great favour if you did neither in the middle of the street.” It was impossible for Grell to go unnoticed and he was uncomfortably aware of drawing more than a few glances.

“Isn’t it a bit late to worry about making a scene in public? I’m sorry, dear, but you really are a dreadful actor.”

“No doubt,” he replied. It was growing dark. “On the chance that they might decide to follow us, perhaps I should see you home.”

“Or the chance that I might go back to look for them? How do you intend to get out of this predicament?” she asked. “By tomorrow, it will be all over the Dispatch. The entire office will be convinced that you must be nursing some secret regard for me.”

“I really don’t know. All I could think of was getting you away from them.”

“That was very kind of you,” she said in a low voice. She began to walk briskly. “This way. It’s not terribly far.”

He followed her to a very old block of flats. “I had no idea that any of these older dwellings still stood. I thought the Council had replaced them all.”

“There are still a few,” she answered. “I like it. Those newer blocks all seem so crowded - everyone on top of one another.”

He accompanied her up the steps to a heavy wooden door.

“Would you come in for a moment?” she asked quietly.

He couldn’t see her face clearly in the gathering darkness, but noticed her hand trembling as she tried to fit her key in the lock. “Very well.”

She ushered him through a tiny vestibule and opened another door. William expected Grell’s flat to be cluttered and messy and jammed with useless frilly objects, but this was . . .  plain, almost to the point of drabness. Her sitting room was sparsely furnished with a mismatched, nondescript sofa and chair. Beige curtains hung limply over the window and an almost bare bookcase stood against one wall.

“Have a seat. Would you like a coffee or a drink?” She hung her coat on from a hook on the door and started towards the kitchen.

“No thank you,” he said, following her into the other room.

Her kitchen was small and very old-fashioned, he noticed. The appliances were practically ancient. A clothes line was strung over the rust-stained enamelled sink with undergarments and stockings dangling from it.

“Good heavens!” she cried. “Get out! You don’t need to be seeing my unmentionables.” She shooed him out. “I’m just going to make myself a cup of tea,” she called. “Are you sure you won’t have one? It’s no trouble.”

He could see her through the doorway. She was gripping the edge of the sink, her shoulders were shaking and her voice sounded suspiciously thick. Deciding to give her a moment to collect herself, he answered, “Yes, please.”

Grell emerged a few minutes later carrying a tray with an old brown teapot and two flowered cups and saucers and a tin of biscuits. “I think the milk’s gone off,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “but you take yours black, don’t you?” She set the tray down on a table at one end of the couch. William couldn’t help but notice that the table at the other end was of a different wood and far smaller. How could she live like this? He placed no great importance on objects himself, but his own apartment was far more comfortably furnished.

He nodded and accepted a cup from her.

“Have a biscuit,” she said, offering him the tin. “They’re awfully nice. I know we’re not supposed to bring things back from the human world, but I’m terribly fond of these.”

An occasional tin of biscuits was the least of her transgressions, he thought, but she was chattering away.

“Or I could make you a sandwich. You must be famished. It’s quite late; you must have missed your supper, while sitting about keeping an eye on me.”

There was something so desperate about her attempt to play the gracious hostess. He wondered how often she had guests and took a biscuit. “I’m quite all right, thank you.”

“Are you sure? I have some ham and cheese. I feel dreadful to think that you wasted your entire evening on me like this.”

“Grell, stop it. I did not, as you say, waste my evening.”

She gulped her tea nervously. “But why did you bother?” She stared blankly into her cup. “Why should you care?”

Why? He still wasn’t entirely sure, so he took refuge in the obvious. “I guess I was worried about how you would behave when you realized they were playing a prank on you. You are not known for your calm disposition.”

“I suppose not,” she muttered.

He could hear a tap dripping in the kitchen and repressed the urge to spring up and turn it off. This conversation - this entire evening - was unsettling. “And I was concerned about you.”

Her head flew up. “You were? Since when?” She stared accusingly at him. “You have no use for me! You never have!”

“That is not true,” he said stiffly. “I have always had great respect for your abilities as a reaper.”

“But as an individual, you detest me,” she snapped. “I’m an embarrassment and a disgrace to the Dispatch. No doubt, you believe I brought this on myself - being foolish enough to think anyone could find me attractive.”

Her defiant words and tone were belied by her expression. Her eyes were huge and fixed on his face, silently begging him to disagree with her. She stood abruptly and fetched a little box from her bookcase and dumped out the contents. “I guess I should toss all this out,” she said, dangling a pink ribbon from one finger, “but I think I’ll keep it as a warning not to be so stupid in the future.”

William felt an uncomfortable throb of pity for her. Grell had been a thorn in his side for almost a century, but seeing her like this - vulnerable and defeated - was hard to bear.

“Grell,” he finally managed to say, “I am deeply sorry for what they did to you. They will be dealt with.” He held up his hand to forestall her interruption. “It would not matter to whom they had done this. I will not tolerate such deliberate cruelty in the office. Would you like to take the day off tomorrow?”

“I’d rather not. I’ll have to face them eventually,” she sighed. “And I would prefer that they don’t have the satisfaction of thinking that I’m at home, crying my eyes out.”

“Very well, but will you come in an hour later than usual?” He rose from his seat.

“That’s a first,” she said with a faint smile. “You telling me to be late.”

She accompanied him to the door. “You have been extremely kind to me tonight. I’m very grateful.”

He awkwardly squeezed her shoulder. “Try to get some rest. And Grell  . . . ”

“Yes?”

“I don’t detest you. You aggravate me beyond bearing most of the time, but we’ve been colleagues since the start. I - I couldn’t imagine the Dispatch without you. I wouldn’t want to,” he added softly.

“Thank you,” she replied as she closed the door behind him.

He had never disliked Grell, he thought while he walked home. She was annoying and infuriating; she drove him to madness more times than he could count, but it had always been tinged with reluctant admiration. She was bold and fearless and carried herself with a fiery self-assurance that he sometimes envied. Yet, that evening, seeing her in such drab surroundings, seeing her dejected and hurt, moved him more than he believed possible and he realized how exhausting it must be to be Grell. She had always said she was a superb actress, but her greatest role was herself.

XXXXXXXXXX

The office was ridiculously quiet when she strolled in the following morning. The break room was deserted and, aside from a few murmured greetings, everyone seemed excessively interested in the work on their desks. Her own desk was covered with reports with a curt note from William, asking that she complete them all.

With a sigh, she settled in. She longed to be out in the field, wielding her Death Scythe. She ached to engage in battle - to encounter a pack of demons or wrestle with a particularly resistant soul. She hungered for a worthy adversary and toyed with the idea of visiting the human world and provoking Sebastian until he bore her down and wore her out. She needed to see the blood spilling and hear her opponent’s cries of anguish.

She needed to get to work. Going on a bloodthirsty rampage would be a very poor repayment of William’s kindness last night.

Half an hour later, Ronald slipped into her office. “Senpai?” he asked gently. “How are you?”

She rubbed her faced tiredly. “I’ve been better,” she admitted. “What are they all saying out there?”

“Well,” he dropped into a chair and leaned forward, “Lewis and Bradley came in this morning, laughing like goons. They said you waited for hours and told some ridiculous story about William trying to come to your rescue.”

“He did.”

The young reaper stared at her in shock. “Anyway, I’ll be away for a few days. The boss is sending me to Yorkshire for a bit.”

“What on earth for? I thought Bradley usually collected up there.”

He looked uncharacteristically sheepish and said, “Um - Bradley’s in the Infirmary right now. He’ll be fine,” he added quickly. “Got a broken nose. Seems he walked into a door.”

Grell felt a slow warmth suffuse her as she took in his blood-spattered shirt and swollen knuckles, but said, “Oh Ronnie . . .  You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh yes I should,” he stated emphatically. “I won’t be gone more than three or four days. We’ll go for a drink when I get back.”

“Only if you let me pay.”

“Too right,” he laughed. “You get paid much more than I do.”

“And I get to choose the place. Last time, you spent the whole evening making eyes at every female in the bar.”

“I swear.  I’ll have eyes for no one but you. We should go to the place you were at last night. I’ll gaze adoringly at you the whole time.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t think I want to set foot in there again.”

“Are you going to be all right, Senpai?” he asked as he stood.

“Of course I am,” she insisted. “Now shoo! William has given me hundreds of reports to read.”

He stared at her quizzically, as if considering whether to speak. “You know, William must be awfully fond of you.”

Grell began to laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. Maybe he had a moment of pity for me, but, I’m sure, he was far more worried that I would something that would reflect badly on the Dispatch.”

“I don’t think so or he would have simply gotten you out of there. He wouldn’t have put on that little show.”

“You are silly,” she giggled as he left her office.

She tried to concentrate on the work in front of her. Her head ached from the wine and sleepless night, but she had no desire to venture from her office. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would make a great show, threaten terrible vengeance and laugh at herself in front of the others.

She had been hard at work for several hours and the reports were beginning to blur before her eyes when she heard a knock at her door.

“Yes,” she called out. “Do you need something, Nora?” She gazed wearily at one of the secretaries, standing in her doorway.

“Agent Sutcliff,” the young woman said, “I thought you might like a cup of tea.” She placed a cup and a plate with several biscuits on Grell’s desk.

“Thank you,” she replied. “Is there anything else?” she added as the girl hesitated.

“Can I be blunt?”

“Of course.”

“The rest of us out there think what those three did to you was rotten and mean,” she burst out. “Everyone wanted to say something to you, but-”

Grell shook her hair back. “But, no doubt, you’re all terrified that I’ll tear the first one who mentions it to pieces.”

“Something like that,” she grinned.

“I don’t blame you,” she said with an answering smile. “Please tell the others that I appreciate their concern, but you mustn’t waste your time feeling sorry for me.”

“Why not? It was a horrible trick. If they’d done it to any one of us out there, we’d all be furious,”

“But I’m not quite one of you, am I?”

“No,” she said frankly, “but you still have feelings.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re very kind.” Again, she was flooded with an unexpected feeling of warmth and felt the haze of her depression lift slightly.

“And William! Who would have thought he’d reveal his feelings like that?”

“Please!” she begged. “Don’t start imagining things. What William did was very sweet, but you mustn’t believe it means anything. He was simply desperate to get me away before I went mad. And please, tell the others to stop discussing it. He’d be horrified.” Why did the girl insist on grinning at her like that?

“All right. But I’ll tell you if those three think they’re getting any typing done in a hurry, they’re in for a very unpleasant shock. We ladies need to stick together.”

Was it possible, she thought after Nora left, that the rest of the Dispatch was not laughing at her? She wasn’t entirely sure if being pitied was preferable, but she felt a little more cheerful as she went back to work.

By the end of the day, she had cleared away most of the reports. She was tired and cramped and hungry. From the ebb and flow of noise outside, she knew the day shift had departed and the evening shift agents had proceeded to their collections. The office itself should be fairly empty; she would be able to slip away unnoticed, she thought, rolling her head to relieve the kinks in her neck as she donned her coat.

The office wasn’t empty. A lone figure was sitting at one of the desks.

“Grell,” he said quietly, “can I talk to you for a moment?”

“What is it, Richard?” She was too tired to think of a smart put-down - something that would make him feel as worthless as she had all day. She barely had the energy to glare at him.

“I - I’m really sorry about what we did.”

She had to give him credit; he looked her directly in the eye. “Did William tell you to apologize? Or are you worried that Ronald might break your nose, as well?” she sneered.

“No! No!” he muttered. “William told me to stay as far away from you as possible. I swear that it started out as a little joke. We thought it would be funny to leave that flower on your desk and watch you wonder about it. That’s all, at first.”

“You and your friends have rather odd notions about what is funny.”

“They’re not my friends,” he mumbled.

He was small for a reaper and thin. She had wondered, in the past, how he managed in the field and, suddenly, understood. “Lewis and Bradley bullied you into going along with this, didn’t they? It’s been like that since training. Am I right?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Very well, but you won’t get a second chance.” She bared her teeth at him in a frightening grin. “I’d suggest you choose your companions more carefully from now on,” she added as he fled.

She massaged her temples with her fingertips, surprised by the sudden spurt of sympathy she had felt for him. But she knew what it was like to be an outsider, knew what it was like to feel unaccepted. His name had been in several of the reports she had read that day. He was considered weak in combat, under threat of demotion or termination and rarely sent on anything but the simplest collections. She made a quick decision and raced down the hallway after him.

“Richard,” she said, “I’m going to ask William to pair you with me for the next few weeks. Don’t look so worried,” she added with a laugh. “I’m not planning for you to meet with a sudden accident, but I will not be easy on you.”

“Really? You would work with me?”

“Really, I would. You can tell the others that William is punishing you by forcing you into my company.”

He pushed his shaggy brown hair back and smiled. He did have a rather sweet smile, she thought and realized that she had never seen it before.

“I wouldn’t do that, Grell, and I won’t let you down.”

“See that you don’t. I’m deadly efficient, you know.” She raised her hand to her mouth with thumb, forefinger and littlest finger extended as her tongue poked out. “We’ll make you the same. And teach you how to treat a lady,” she called after him.

“That was very kind of you,” said a voice behind her.

“William!” she cried. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough. His future is very uncertain, you know, but if anyone can make a skilled reaper out of him, it would be you.”

“Of course,” she said smugly. “Now, I would suggest that you run for your life, before you’re seen speaking with me. Half the office believes that you’ve been in love with me all along now.”

“Quite,” he said uncomfortably as he adjusted his glasses. “The talk will die down in a day or two.”

“Or you could whack me over the head and step on my face a few times,” she said. “That might convince them.” She was smiling, but her voice had become hard.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

“Of course not,” she said bitterly, “because who, in their right mind, could be attracted to me?”

XXXXXXXXXX

William wasn’t sure how it had happened. Grell was still hot-tempered, reckless and unconventional, but, somehow, she seemed to be less of a thorn in his side. There were still days when he longed to deliver a hard smack on the side her head with his Death Scythe, but, more often, he found himself repressing a smile at her outlandish pronouncements and, once, had to retreat to his office, shaking with silent laughter.

Maybe, it was her kindness and generosity towards Richard. She had prodded him relentlessly; he had come into the office black and blue on more than one occasion, but, he had told her when they discussed his progress, his improvement was astonishing.

“He’ll never reach the level of Undertaker - or Grell Sutcliff,” he said, “but there is no reason to keep him on probation any longer. You have an unexpected ability. We shall have to make greater use of it. Several of the newer agents are asking if they might be paired with you.”

“Gracious!” she exclaimed. “I hardly think that I would be considered a suitable teacher. I’m usually held up as a bad example.”

“Maybe so, but haven’t the past weeks shown you that people do think more kindly of you than you believed?”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “It’s not exactly pleasant to be pitied,” she sniffed.

“I don’t think Ronald broke Bradley’s nose out of pity. He was outraged on your behalf. Lewis has had to do all his own typing and filing ever since and both of their expense reports went missing this month. The ladies out there are quite indignant. And every single agent has asked not to be paired with either of them. You are one of us and we protect our own. I think the treatment they are receiving from their colleagues is far more effective than any punishment I could inflict. And,” he added, “I am very pleased with how you have handled yourself around them.”

“Don’t give me too much credit, dear,” she laughed. “I simply decided that complete indifference would irritate them far more than if I were to chase them about the office with my Death Scythe.”

“You’ve succeeded admirably in that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “But I’ve always been proficient at irritating people. You should know that more than anyone.”

Perhaps he was seeing her clearly for the first time - as if his spectacles had been faulty for years. It was more than simply realizing that she could be vulnerable. But how to explain the Ripper? She had offered no defence - simply claimed that she had committed some of the most brutal murders in history for her own amusement and killed her companion when she became boring. Yet, she wore her coat every day.

“ _I think I’ll keep it as a warning not to be so stupid in the future_.”

Her words haunted him. Did she keep Angelina’s coat as a similar warning? She had been devoted to Madam Red, he knew. Was she so desperate for affection that she had gruesomely slaughtered five women to earn the love of another? How betrayed she must have felt when Angelina chose the boy over her! When she realized that Madam Red would stand by and let Sebastian cut her down, her fury must have been overwhelming. Her crimes had not been committed in some fever of bloodlust, but in a futile attempt to grasp at love, no matter the cost.

The bravado, the careless arrogance and scorn of others’ opinions of her were all an elaborate act.

And he wondered if her protestations of love for him over the past century were part of the same act.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ronald breezed into Grell’s office a few weeks later. “Senpai! What if we go for that drink tonight?”

“Oh dear,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I promised Richard I’d go to some new café he just heard about. One or two of the other new graduates are coming as well. You’re welcome to join us.”

“And watch them stare all moony-eyed at you? No thanks!”

“Are you jealous?” she giggled. “They’re just boys.”

“Who worship the ground you walk on ever since William got you to start working with them. We haven’t had a night out in ages,” he pouted.

“Oh Ronnie, you’ll always be my first and best-loved protege, I swear.”

“They’d better not start calling you Senpai,” he grumbled, “or I’ll run them over with my Death Scythe. Only I get to call you that. What about tomorrow?”

“Actually,” she said slowly, “William and I are going for dinner.”

“Really?”

“Stop grinning at me like that!” she complained. “It’s strictly business - to discuss the progress of the new agents.”

“Seems like you and William have an awful lot of business to discuss lately.”

She put her nose in the air. “I am a senior agent, who has taken on some of the responsibility of training the newer reapers. It is only natural that the Supervisor and I should have to discuss these things.”

“If you say so,” he laughed as he left the office.

She would have to fix a date for that drink. Not Friday - she was going to Nora’s hen-night. She had been quite touched by that particular invitation; Nora insisted that she come.

“Your life seems to be quite a social whirl lately,” William commented the following evening.

“It was very sweet of the girls to include me,” she said, sipping at her drink. “I’ve been invited to the bachelor party, as well,” she added with a smile. “I’ll make a token appearance at both.”

“Why not stay and enjoy yourself?”

“I don’t really fit in at either event,” she said bluntly. “What about you? I know Gerald invited you.”

“I suspect my presence would cast a pall over the evening. Like you, I shall show my face and leave early.” He broke off a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth. “You don’t mind that Bradley and Lewis will be there?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s a bit of a relief that the others have let up on them. They’ve had a taste of being outcasts; I think they’ve learned their lesson.”

“You’re very generous, but it’s good that things have settled down in the office. Until the next crisis,” he said.

“Caused by me, no doubt.”

“No, I don’t think so. Not any longer.”

The waiter had brought their food. She waited until they were alone again. William was smiling at her; there was real warmth and encouragement in his expression. She took several nervous bites of her meal before she spoke. “I have driven you mad over the years, I know.”

“You have,” he agreed.

“I’ve embarrassed you and made the you and the Dispatch look foolish. I should be grateful that you’ve not done more than stomp on my face a few times.”

“You should,” he nodded.

“And I’ve made an awful spectacle of myself over Sebastian and - and you . . . ” Was there a gleam of amusement in his eyes?

“Please, go on.  I’m quite enjoying this.” He continued to eat imperturbably.

“Oh! You . . . ” she sputtered. “What I’m trying to say is-”

“Yes?”

“Stop teasing me!” she grumbled. “You’re making me very uncomfortable.”

“Don’t you think you deserve a little discomfort, considering your behaviour?”

“Just stop it!” she hissed, baring her teeth at him. “Or I shall scream!”

“And if you do, I shall toss you over my shoulder and carry you out of here like a misbehaving child.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Would you care to find out?”

Grell threw her head back and burst out laughing. “Oh William!” she gasped. “I do love you!”

She went silent. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that. I - I don’t mean like _that_.”

“It’s all right,” he said quietly.

His expression was so stern. She floundered about for another topic of conversation until he came to her rescue.

“What excuse do you intend to offer to escape these parties?”

“Oh! You know,” she shrugged. “Something about some divine man waiting for me,” she added with a shrill laugh.

She spent the remainder of the meal chattering, but their easy comradery of earlier was gone.

XXXXXXXXXX

Fool! Grell cursed herself later at home. When things had been going so well; when William was smiling at her and teasing her in a manner that could only be called friendly. She had to ruin everything with a stupid, thoughtless comment.

No wonder he looked so grave for the rest of the evening - probably terrified she was going to start spouting declarations of love. She glared at the red coat, hanging from its hook on the door - a reminder of what it was to love too much.

_“Another one?” She caressed the sleek cap of red hair that leaned against her shoulder. “Is it wise? I think they might be on to us.”_

_“Don’t be silly, dear. We’ve been very clever. They believe the Ripper works alone.”_

_“Sebastian knows more than he lets on, I’m sure,” she argued, uncertain how much to reveal about the boy’s devoted butler. “There is a great deal more to him than you understand.”_

_“But he’s no match for a Grim Reaper,” Angelina insisted, nestling closer. “Ciel would never suspect me and Sebastian is completely loyal to him.”_

_Grell stared into the dying embers of the fire and tightened her hold on the woman curled up next to her on the couch. “My love,” she whispered, “don’t attempt to trifle with forces beyond your comprehension.” Sometimes she wondered if Angelina saw her as nothing more than the servant she played._

_“Aren’t we kindred souls?” she purred, winding her arms around her neck._

_Kindred souls . . .  Bound by red; the red hair Angelina hated, but she loved; the carmine she painted her on her victims, the blood . . ._

That night, in the holding cell, after William dragged her from the scene by her hair, she had stifled her sobs in that red coat and held it close, inhaling her fragrance and the metallic reek of her blood and bitterly admitted that Madam Red had never loved her. She had killed her love for Angelina with a thrust of her Death Scythe.

If only she could kill her love for William as easily. She had tried - thought she had found a fitting mate, beguiled by a sultry whisper. “They don’t deserve to live - those women who throw away what _we_ can never have.” Months of red - the coat thrown over them as their sweat cooled, her auburn eyes gleaming in the darkness, the cloudy red of the water in the washbasin when she gently sponged the blood of their victims from Angelina’s body.

And in the weeks that followed, when her haze of rage lifted, came the fear that, one day, she would turn on William with same fury; that, consumed with madness, with despair that he could never love her, she would cut him down and turn her Death Scythe on herself. She sought distraction in flirting with Sebastian; she teased and tormented almost every attractive man who crossed her path and, for a few dreamlike weeks, was swept up in a romantic fantasy that there was a man who did not find her repellent.

To a certain extent, she had succeeded. Her longing for William had subsided to a dull pain that would never leave, but the recent turn in their relationship was a source of both delight and anguish. To see him smile at her, after decades of blows and frowns, to know that he regarded her with something approaching friendliness and, perhaps, even affection filled her joy, but made her love harder to bear. Their new accord tormented her with tantalizing glimpses of what could never be.

She told herself sternly to be content with what she had as she made her way to the bedroom. As always, the ugliness of the little room struck her like a blow - the dark, scarred wood of the wardrobe against the wall, the peeling varnish of the bureau and spotted mirror hanging over it and plain iron bedstead. The only pretty things, the only things she had kept, were the silver-backed hairbrush and mirror Angelina had given her. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to destroy them, remembering quiet times in front of flickering fire while Madam Red slowly drew the brush through her hair.

In many ways, she was happier these days than she had ever been. The outrage of her colleagues, when they learned of the unkind prank that had been played upon her, warmed her heart. The admiration and respect of Richard and the other younger members of the Dispatch made her feel less of an outsider, more than a freak. For the first time in this existence, she felt accepted and even liked by others.

But, she admitted to herself, as she stripped off her clothes, donned a nightgown and climbed into bed, sometimes she missed those nights when she and Angelina had prowled the streets of London, their breaths coming in short, excited gasps when they identified their prey. When Madam Red spoke kindly to the woman and lured her into the darkness where she waited, every fibre of her body tingling with anticipation. She had been mad those months, but it had been a beautiful, twisted madness that had, briefly, painted her life a glowing crimson. And all she had left was a hollow ache and life as bleak and drab as her self-made cell.

XXXXXXXXXX

Gerald’s bachelor party was in full swing. The meal had been eaten and the table was littered with empty glasses and bottles. William was aware that he had taken a drink or two more than was wise and had enjoyed himself more than he had expected, but the party was degenerating into general drunkenness and he planned to make his exit soon.

He caught sight of Grell, at the opposite end of the long table, sitting between Richard and Ronald. Her laugh had rung out constantly through the dinner and he wished he were sitting at her end of the table. When had her laugh stopped grating on his nerves? He couldn’t say. When had it become important - necessary - that he see her smile? Again, he had no idea, but since the night he had rescued her in the bar, when she turned white with humiliation, when she had firmly pressed her quivering lips shut, the notion of watching her cheeks become pink with pleasure, the urgency of his need to see her happy again, had shocked him.

And when, at their dinner, a few nights earlier, she had mumbled an apology for claiming to love him, “ _I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I - I don’t mean like that_ ,” all he could think was “Why not?”

It was definitely time to leave. He was feeling slightly dizzy and the others at the table were telling increasingly filthy jokes.

"What about you, William?” one of them slurred. “You must know at least one joke.”

“Come on, boss!” another called out. “Go for it!”

Maybe it was the unaccustomed liquor; maybe it was the slightly scornful expressions on the faces nearest him - laughing at the idea that the stuffy Dispatch Supervisor might know a dirty story, but he cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and began, “I don’t know any jokes, but I do have an amusing tale of something that happened in my youth.”

Everyone leaned forward expectantly.

“I was quite a young man and, being very inexperienced in certain matters, decided to visit a house of ill-repute.” The entire table convulsed with laughter, but he doggedly continued. “Since it was early, I was able to make a choice from a large selection of young ladies. I chose a very pretty young woman with red hair.” He stopped abruptly as every head at the table swivelled to look at Grell.

“Do go on, William,” she said.

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and cheeks and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “So - er, I followed her upstairs. When we were alone, she said, ‘I don’t bother with anyone unless he has ten inches.’” By now his stomach was roiling and his ears were burning in embarrassment, but he had gone too far. “I had no choice, but to leave. It didn’t matter how attractive she was, I was not about to cut off two inches just to make her happy.”

They laughed far harder than the joke deserved and he decided to take the opportunity to leave, standing and saying, “And with that, gentlemen, and lady,” he added, “I will say good night.”

He fled the room and leaned against a fence outside the restaurant. The heat and drink and embarrassment had made him lightheaded. Gratefully, he breathed deeply of the cool night air.

“William! Are you quite all right?” Grell’s voice startled him.

He nodded. “Just a little overset by the heat in there. Are you leaving as well?”

“I’d had enough and I think they’ll enjoy themselves more if I’m not there.”

He walked at her side along the pavement. “May I walk with you? I need some fresh air and exercise.”

She began to giggle. “Of course, they all think I went racing out after you to find out if there is any truth in that joke of yours.”

“I - I wasn’t thinking when I told it - merely repeated it as I heard it many years ago. I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

She jammed her hands in her pockets and began to walk faster. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one would believe you were thinking about me when you referred to a pretty red-head.”

They proceeded in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, her heels clicking on the paving stones. “Did you enjoy Nora’s party?” he finally asked.

“Yes, I did. I didn’t stay long, but it was terribly sweet of the ladies to include me like that.”

“They’re very brave, those two. Not too many of us bother making that kind of formal commitment.”

“They love each other.”

“I’m sure they do, but imagine loving someone for centuries.”

“It’s possible,” she said quietly.

Her head was bowed; he couldn’t see her face through the curtain of her hair. They had arrived at her flat. “May I trouble you for a glass of water before I head home? I did drink far more than I am used to.”

“Of course,” she replied, opening the door. “Would a cup of coffee help?”

“Water will be fine,” he said, following her inside.

“Nora and Gerald have been given permission to move to a couple's flat,” she said, turning on the tap in the kitchen. “She was showing us pictures and describing what they plan to do. It’s going to be lovely.” She handed him a glass.

He accepted it with a nod of thanks and took a deep swallow. “You’re a senior agent,” he said. “You are entitled to a larger flat than this. Why have you never applied for one?”

She had hung up her coat and was untying her shoes. “I told you. There are too many people crammed into the new blocks. There are only four flats here. One is empty and I rarely see or hear the other two residents. You should be grateful. If I lived in one of the newer buildings, the entire office would know that you had been visiting the disgrace of the Dispatch late at night. Think of the harm it might do your career,” she mocked.

“But why do you live this way? You’re so dramatic and flamboyant, but your home resembles a nun’s cell.”

“Why should you care?” She glared accusingly at him. “No doubt, you thought my flat would look like a brothel. Are you disappointed? Would you like to inspect my bedroom?”

“I - I’m trying to understand you,” he stammered.

“Why? You’ve never cared to before.”

“I do now,” he said simply. “We’ve been colleagues for close to a century and I have only recently realized how little I know you.” He took a seat next to her on the couch. “And I have only just understood how much of it is an act, designed to shock and keep people away.”

“What about Jack the Ripper?” she asked scornfully. “How do you reconcile that with your sudden insight into my true character?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“You loved Madam Red. You would have done anything for her. She broke your heart.”

Grell took a deep, shaky breath and shrank away from him. “I think you should leave.”

He felt a sudden spurt of triumph; he knew he was right. “Have I made you angry? Are you annoyed that I finally understand what a fraud you are?” Where were these words coming from? The worst of the drink had worn off. “You are often foolish and melodramatic, but you are also kind and generous and intensely loyal. You have spent decades driving people away, flinging yourself into this absurd character you created. No wonder you live like this. You pour everything into the image you want people to see.”

“How dare you?” she whispered. “How dare you come into my home, disparage the way I live and pretend that you finally understand me? You have no idea!”

William took her by her shoulders. “Then tell me. For once in your life, Grell, stop play-acting and be yourself.”

She shook off his hands and sprang to her feet. “Only if you tell me why you do the same. Why you let no one get close to you. Why you have no friends. You play the stern, forbidding supervisor, but you, too, are generous, loyal and kind.”

“I have often been very unkind to you.”

“Yes, you have,” she said quietly, “but that doesn’t answer my question and don’t say it is because you are Supervisor. You have been that way since training.” She sat in the chair across from him and leaned forward. “What was it, in your human life, that made you this way? What brought you here?”

William gasped in shock. Even Grell, with her careless disregard for all propriety, had never transgressed the greatest unwritten rule of their kind - never ask another why he was here.

She smiled faintly at him. “It’s not morbid curiosity - not entirely. You claim you are trying to understand me. I am merely doing the same. I think you can guess why I am here, why I chose my own time and method, rather than letting the law do it for me.”

“I grew tired of never being quite good enough,” he finally said. “I was never considered bright or talented or exceptional in any way. There was always someone smarter or better. I felt invisible, so eventually, I decided to erase myself.”

“Oh William,” she whispered, “you were surrounded by fools.”

“When I came here,” he continued as if she had not spoken, “all I had to do was follow the rules to succeed. You cannot understand how comforting that was. I came to understand that I could rise in the opinions of my superiors simply by doing what was in front of me without question or complaint. It’s all I’ve ever been able to do. In my human life, it was never enough, but here . . . ”

“Here you are respected and rewarded,” she murmured.

“Yes. I’m dull and stuffy, I know, but those are the qualities that allow me to excel instead of being merely adequate.”

“Whereas I am the complete opposite,” she smiled.

“You are, but you have an innate talent that I shall never have. You claim I dislike you, but that is not true. I held myself aloof at first because I resented your ability. Sometimes, I still do. You could be as legendary as Undertaker, but you don’t care. You throw away the gifts that I would have done anything to possess.”

“I do care,” she insisted. “I just don’t care about the same things you do. I spent my entire human life confused and angry and frightened. I’m a monster and a freak, but it matters less here. I can live as I choose.”

“You are unconventional and anything but ordinary and I understand why you would enjoy the freedom this existence gives you. You have committed some truly monstrous acts, but you play the freak to keep people from knowing who you really are - the same as you hid your true self during your life.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“I do,” he said firmly, “and I believe that you feel far more remorse for your actions than you will admit. You wear Madam Red’s coat every day as a reminder of what you did.”

“Or maybe I just like the coat.”

“Or maybe you feel the need to punish yourself for loving her, killing for her and killing her. I can see holes in your wall. You had pictures up here at some time. There are unfaded patches on the carpet that tell me this furniture hasn’t always been here like this. Your home was different at one time, wasn’t it?”

She sighed and massaged her forehead with her fingertips. “Go home, William. It’s late. You’ve had too much to drink and I’d rather not continue this conversation.”

“Not until you answer my question.” Why was it so important that he learn the truth about Grell? When had he become intrigued by her? How could he make her see she was neither a freak nor a monster, but vulnerable and, indeed, lovable?

“Very well,” she muttered. “You’re right. The flat has always been a bit shabby, but it used to be quite nice. I had pictures on the wall, comfortable furnishings and all the pretty things I longed for during my human existence.”

“What happened?”

Refusing to meet his eyes, she continued, “Anything that I didn’t destroy, I tossed out.”

“But why?” He stared at her. Her eyes were fixed on her hands, twisting in her lap and he knew. “It was penance, am I right?”

“In a way. Please don’t ask me anything more.” She lifted her eyes, huge and lustrous with tears, to his face. “These past weeks, we’ve managed to put our differences behind us - become comrades, maybe even friends. Don’t spoil it.”

“Grell, are you saying you live like this because of _me_?”

“Yes!” she cried. “After I killed Angelina because she couldn’t love me enough, I was terrified I might turn on you the same way. That, one day, I couldn’t bear another whack from your Scythe and I would hate you as much as I have loved you.” Her face was wet with tears. “I was mad with grief and fear and consumed by some absurd notion that if my life was empty, if I was reminded every day of what I have lost, I wouldn’t allow myself to lose what I love most.” She buried her face in her hands. “Please William! Just leave! You’ve ruined everything.”

He crossed the small space between them and pulled her to her feet, forcing her hands away from her face. “Nothing is spoiled, I swear. I am grateful for your honesty and,” he added, spying a lone scarlet geranium blooming bravely on her windowsill, “I don’t believe your life is quite so empty now. You have gained the respect and admiration of most of the younger members of the Dispatch by demonstrating that you can be kind and generous. The rest of your colleagues and others in the office have shown that you are one of them. Are you happier now?” he asked softly as he released her hands.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad. And I am proud today to call you a valued co-worker and friend.”

“Truly?”

“Indeed.” He adjusted his glasses. “I will leave you now,” he said, “but I am very happy we have had this opportunity to talk - to understand one another better.”

She was biting her lip so hard that a tiny droplet of blood rolled down her chin. “I am . . .  pleased that you would consider me a friend,” she finally said, opening the door for him. “Take care as you go home. I think you are still a little unsteady.”

“I will.”

He walked home slowly, his mind reeling, but not from the drink. Letting himself into his apartment, he gazed around - sleek, minimal, very, very dull and, in its own way, very similar to the drab little flat he had just left. The only personal item in view was a small carved wooden pigeon decoy. Grell had given it to him when he was promoted to Supervisor. He flushed uncomfortably, remembering how casually he had accepted it and refused her offer to take him out for a drink and how he had ignored the hurt that flickered across her face. He recalled a Dispatch New Year’s Eve party when she cornered him at midnight and awkwardly thrust out her hand while her eyes had mutely begged for some sign of regard. The party after the night of the London fires - she had haltingly tried to thank him for restoring her Death Scythe. He had brushed her aside with a snide reminder to behave herself in the future.

He had been more than unkind to her; he had been deliberately cruel - calculated his sneers and blows with exquisite precision to inflict as much hurt as possible.

And she had loved him all these years, with a depth that shook him to his core. Not the silly, melodramatic protestations that had annoyed and embarrassed him for decades, but to the extent that she had destroyed all that gave her beauty and comfort in her life. Thrown away treasured possessions to live a life as empty as his own in an attempt to admonish herself daily.

What of his own feelings? He had been truthful when he admitted his early resentment of her gifts and the ease with which she achieved what he had to toil for. Had there been an underlying fear that, one day, she might cast off her carelessness and effortlessly surpass him? With a spurt of shame, he realized it was so and he recognized how often his blows and harsh words had been motivated by a need to establish his own superiority. He had never wanted her to become the reaper she could. He had attempted to break her spirit and, thinking of the empty rooms she inhabited, knew he had nearly succeeded.

William prepared for bed, dizzy with new knowledge. Almost everything he had believed about himself had been splintered into thousands of fragments which refused to be reassembled into anything like what he had been - as if a sudden fiery explosion of crimson had shattered his monochrome existence.

Frightened and exhilarated by the force of his emotions, William climbed into bed. He had set aside his spectacles, but could see himself and his new world with a clarity that stunned him. Grell had driven him mad over the years - enraged and infuriated him, but she hadn’t earned much of the disdain he had heaped on her, hadn’t deserved years of unrelenting scorn. Nor did he deserve almost a century of unwavering love, but he could learn to be worthy.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was the longest walk of his life, carefully timed for when the office was at its most crowded, when the day shift was wrapping up and the evening shift was beginning.

His ears were burning; he could feel everyone’s eyes upon him, but marched steadily forward.

“Let me get that door for you, boss. You look a bit weighed down,” Ronald grinned, pushing Grell’s door open.

Her head flew up at his entry. She flushed a deep pink. “William! What is this?”

He gratefully dropped his burden. Roses rolled about her desk and onto the floor, filling her office with their perfume. “One for each year I’ve known you.”

“Have you gone mad?” she cried, her eyes growing huge.

“Perhaps or, maybe, I’ve finally come to my senses.”

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “And you think after years of dragging me about by my hair and whacking me with your Scythe that all you have to do is drop a few flowers in my lap?”

“I think you have loved me without reserve for years in spite of all the dragging and whacking.”

“And . . . ”

“I’ve been a blind fool.”

“And . . . ”

“I’m willing to spend the next century making it up to you if you will let me.”

“And . . . ” she whispered through trembling lips.

He had no fine speeches, could not spout poetry or woo her with words. He cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and spoke loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the outer office. “I love you, Grell. Is it too late?”

In a blur of scarlet, she leapt from her seat and flew into his arms as he kicked her door shut to loud applause.

XXXXXXXXXX

“What did Senior Management say when they realized that you had applied for a couple’s flat to share with _me_?”

“Not much, really.” He decided not to mention that most of them seemed to be having a hard time hiding their grins.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take one in the new executive block? It’s terribly modern. I really don’t mind.” She glanced around and took his arm.

William laid his hand over hers. “You needn’t always make sure we can’t be seen before holding my arm.”

Grell leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “I know, but I’m still going to embarrass you and drive you mad in the future. I swore to myself that the one thing I could do was behave myself around you in public.”

“Perhaps I like it when you misbehave,” he chuckled, bending his head to kiss the tip of her nose, “but I do appreciate your control in the office.”

“It’s funny,” she said. “There was a time I would have done anything for a sign of affection from you, but now I know how you feel here,” she pressed her free hand against her heart, “an occasional stolen kiss behind closed doors is enough.”

“I hope you’ll give me more than an occasional kiss behind our door,” he murmured. Pushing open a creaky gate, he led her to a tiny, very old house. “Here we are. What do you think?”

“Oh William!” she cried. “It’s sweet! Such a dear little house!”

“It is old and somewhat run-down, but it is a bit larger than the flats and it has a little garden in the back. Management said we could have it if we didn’t mind fixing it up ourselves.” He unlocked the door and brushed away cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. “Are you sure you don’t want to look for somewhere a little less - ancient?” he added, coughing at the dust that rose up around them.

Grell rushed through to the door that led from the kitchen to the garden. “Look!” she called, flinging it open. “Rosebushes! And a lovely little terrace! It’s charming. It’s perfect.”

Barely avoiding tripping over a broken tile in the kitchen, William said, “Then we’ll take it.”

“Are you sure, darling? Wouldn’t you rather move to one of the new apartments?”

“I want you to be happy. And I think you’ll be much happier here without Management as our neighbours.”

“And I’m sure Management will be much happier without me as their neighbour,” she laughed. “No wonder they were so willing to let you have this place.

Oh look!” she cried. “Look over the fireplace.”

She dragged him across the room to peer into a dust-covered mirror.

“It should be very nice once it’s cleaned up,” he commented, wiping his hand against the glass.

“No,” she said softly. “Look at yourself. Really look at yourself.”

William adjusted his glasses and followed her gaze.

“You look happy, darling. Really happy.”

He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “Because I am.” But he was more interested in looking at Grell. The restlessness that had always peeked out from her eyes was gone. She looked softer, contented, transformed by happiness to glow with serenity. Nor was that the only change.

“You’re not wearing Madam Red’s coat.”

She glanced down at her old brown coat. “I mean to keep it. I did love her, you know, and I’ll wear it on the job, but I don’t need to punish myself any longer. I can let her go and hope she’s resting in peace. She had very little during her life.”

“And you? Are you at peace?”

“Yes.” She raised her hand in warning. “I’m still reckless and hot-tempered. I like to flirt and tease. There will be many, many days when you will regret allowing yourself to care for me.”

“And there will be many more when I wonder how I could have been blind for so many years. To think, in trying to make a fool of you, they made me understand what a fool I was.”

“Samuel Johnson said, ‘Love is the wisdom of the fool and the folly of the wise,’” she laughed, twining her arms around his neck.

William bent his head to capture her lips. “Then we shall be foolishly wise together. Always.”


End file.
